Something Ends, Something Begins
by Canelo312
Summary: Set after the witcher novels, replacing the events of the game. Geralt awakens from his supposed death, his mind muddled and in disarray. Yennefer, his lover, is gone, as is his child surprise Ciri. The world as he knew it has begun to change. now his quest begins to find them once again, in a race against time.


The winds of winter blowing against the old stone walls of the fortress collided with a ferocity only seen in extreme northern winters. The blistering, cold, icy air swept through the surrounding forest like a stampede. The countless gorges, ravines, and mountains completely covered in snow like a giant white blanket. Most of the surrounding rivers, which in other seasons flowed with a soothing calmness, were now crystal solid. Even the usual sounds of the forest dwellers had died down greatly, hardly any birds or other animals could be heard throughout.

This winter was an especially brutal one, the ice and cold winds seemingly arriving weeks before winter officially began. The snow and hard ice fell from the sky in thickets, leaving the last few days of autumn looking like a winter paradise. The sun, completely blanketed by the countless grey clouds provided very little warmth; whatever amount of light that managed to pierce the sky being far too little to matter.

The days were dire, and the nights even more so. Without layers of jackets and coats one would surely freeze if they stepped foot outside the confines of walls and roofs, the danger of it becoming doubled in the nighttime. Even despite those confines one could still feel the piercing cold making its way through every crack and crevice dotting their walls. Winter in the north was harsh, it always had been, yet the feeling this particular winter gave was a frightening one. There were still nearly two months of it remaining.

Geralt sat across the large fiery hearth dotting the center of Kaer Morhens main hall, the heat emanating from the flames keeping his cold limbs from going numb with pain. In one hand, he held a tankard, half full of hot chocolate. In the other, a quarter eaten piece of sugar bread which at this point had become stale due to the cold. He sat there, his mind contemplating a multitude of thoughts, his eyes glued to the red orange abyss.

Around the white haired Witcher, sat his comrades, five of the people Geralt knew best. Eskel, Geralts oldest friend sat next to him, his scarred face betraying any signs of cold. Lambert sat next to Eskel, in between Vesemir and Coen, who all tore into their pieces of bread like hungry dogs. On the edge, Jason lay, his back stretched across an old sleeping mat, his head resting on his arms just high enough to where he could see the other Witchers.

The Witchers sat in silence for a long time, only the sound of the cracking hearth and the strong wind filling the air inside the old keep. It wasn't until Vesemir decided to speak that the unbearable silence was finally broken.

" Tell us again Geralt" Vesemir began, his eyes remaining latched onto flames as he spoke. " What happened to you? What do you remember?"

Geralt waited a bit before responding, not because he wanted to, but more for a lack of words. He had already tried explaining what happened, yet even he himself felt an air of confusion when he spoke, almost as if he didn't believe what he was saying. He knew it to be true, yet a part of him kept saying it was dream, or rather a nightmare that simply felt all to real. Even the thought of it made his head swirl with pain.

" I..." Geralt stammered a bit, his hand instinctively rubbing his throbbing forehead. " I remember... Rivia, everything that happened there..."

" You're death?" Eskel asked, his face now one of intrigue.

" Yes" Geralt nodded. " I remember

Yennefer...Dandelion, Triss, Zoltan, and... and I remember Ciri"

The mention of her name made Geralt pause, his head now in a hurricane of pain. The thoughts and memories swirled through his head like a horde of phantoms.

" I remember laying there, bleeding...Yennefer on top of me" Geralt dug deep to continue, despite his pain. " She was bleeding too, I could see..."

" It was said that you both died that day" Lambert said.

" We did"

" Then I don't understand, wolf" Eskel shook his head dismissively. " If you died that day then how are you here, sitting with us? You look alive and well to me"

" I...I don't know" Geralt responded, the only way he could. " I would be lying if I said otherwise"

The five Witchers sitting around Geralt looked at each other with puzzled expressions. None of them seemed to grasp much of what Geralt was saying, even making the white haired Witcher doubt the words spewing from his mouth. Yet he felt it necessary to continue, if anything for the sake of ridding his himself from the burden of solitary thought. He figured that if anyone could hear him out, it was his oldest friends.

" Ciri..." he continued. " It has something to do with her...she was there when the mob attacked us, when me and Yen were bleeding on the ground...I remember her kneeling next to me, her eyes glowing like an emerald"

" What did she do?" The five Witchers asked in unison.

" That's the thing" Geralt said. " I only remember her leading us on a boat. It was...strange, like a phantom boat riding through an even more phantom lake...then...the pain went away". Geralts eyes trailed off, as did his voice.

" Continue Geralt, please" Said Vesemir.

" The pain went away...then I remember Yen, under an apple tree. There were apple trees everywhere, they bloomed for miles...it seemed like we were there forever"

" And Ciri?" Coen asked.

" She was no longer there" Geralt answered, his eyes showcasing the pain he felt when he uttered the words. " Yen...told me she left us there, and departed, I don't know where, neither did she... that was the last time I ever saw her"

" A place full of apple trees?" Lambert questioned with a raised eyebrow. " Toussaint?"

" No" Geralt shook his head. " It wasn't like that. It was someplace different, someplace I'd never been before nor seen before...someplace nobody has"

" This all seems strange to me, Geralt I must say" Eskel spoke. " Ciri carries you and the sorceress off. To where you say? A place where apple trees bloom eternal?

Then she disappears...without a trace"

" I admit that it's strange, but it's what I remember"

" No ones doubting you, wolf" Vesemir assured, his glare telling Eskel to shut up. " But if you've been...brought back, what of Yennefer?"

" Wish I knew" Geralt said. " Perhaps she would know more, or at least how to explain it better...all I remember is laying with her one night, only to wake up in the ravine you found me in"

" Hmmm" Vesemir pondered. " She wasn't with you when we found you"

" Maybe she didn't come back" Lambert said. " God's didn't find her fitting"

The hard glare from Geralt was enough for Lambert to say less, only his usual smirk remaining etched on his face. Even all the time spent together at Kaer Morhen couldn't get Geralt used to Lamberts crude humor.

" Don't mind him, Geralt" Vesemir said, waving a dismissive hand at the jesting Witcher. " But its a good thing Jason and Coen found you when they did. This Winter has been especially brutal"

" Aye" Coen nodded. " Luckily we were prowling through that area, that's when we saw the flash in the sky. Magical...I'd say. Naturally we investigated, only to find you laying there"

Geralt nodded in gratitude. He knew that had they not found him when they did, he could've frozen to death. That wasn't a fitting way for a Witcher to go.

" And you're certain no one else was with him?" Vesemir asked.

" I'm sure of it" Coen answered.

" Then we've no notion of where Yennefer could be" Eskel said. " Or Ciri for that matter, the only two people that could clear all of this up"

Eskel was right. Without Yennefer or Ciri, Geralt was nearly as lost as his comrades. Only the blurry faded memories remaining in his mind gave him a slight sense of comprehension. Not only that, but perhaps the two people Geralt cared for the most were away from him. For the first time in a long time, he felt helpless. A helplessness so deep and powerful that even the company of his brethren did little to comfort it. They said Witchers were stripped of emotions and feelings, and at this moment Geralt wished that were true. No monster nor blade had ever made Geralt feel a pain like this.

At this point, it seemed that the rest of the Witchers huddled around Geralt had begun to notice the feeling eating at him. He could feel their gaze shift to one another, avoiding staring at the white haired Witcher for too long. He knew it was difficult for them. Not because of the absence of the two women like it was for Geralt, but because they had little knowledge of how to comfort him. It wasn't usual for a Witcher to feel this way. Even less for them to know how to deal with it. Killing monsters had never seemed so simple until now.

" Well, Geralt" Vesemir spoke after clearing his throat, breaking once more the awkward silence clouding Kaer Morhen. " Whatever, or whoever it was that brought you back, all that matters is that you're well and in one piece"

Geralt barely let off a nod. That's not what mattered to him, not in the slightest.

" He's right, Wolf" Eskel nodded. " You were fortunate to end up here, right at our doorstep, among friends"

" Yes. Among friends" Vesemir concurred. " We're only missing the one...damn, she's been coming for a long time now. She said she'd arrive quickly"

" Who's our other friend?" Geralt raised an eyebrow, curiously.

" Don't ask, wolf" Vesemir dismissed. " She'll arrive, at some point. You'll see for yourself"

Lambert grunted, his thick eyebrows furrowed and his scarred face displeased. Jason and Coen laughed quite loudly at their comrades apparent anger.

" So then, Geralt" Eskel spoke once again, ignoring the three juvenile Witchers. " You seem to be...all there. Am I correct to assume you still remember how to use that sword of yours?"

" Eskel, old friend" Geralt shook his head. " You could kill me a millions times, break my arms, strip me of my memory...and I'd still know how to handle a blade"

" Hah!" Lambert grinned widely. " Of course. If a Witcher knows anything, it's how to swing a sword. You'd be a fool to think his skills would've been lost, Eskel"

Eskel frowned at the younger Witcher, biting his tongue with some effort.

" We'll see" Coen said, licking his lips. " We will have ample opportunity to examine our dear friends skill. We still have a long winter ahead of us"

" Enough" Vesimir interjected, his old voice ringing throughout the great hall. " We will test Geralts skill, yes, however now is not the time to focus on such menial things. Our friend has just returned to us, strangely and unnaturally in manner, we should let him rest...come, Geralt. You haven't lost your memory so you know where everything is"

" I will, Vesimir" Geralt nodded. " And you lads"

He nodded. However Geralt knew for certain that tonight he would not be getting any rest. His mind would not let him.

Later that night, when Geralt lay in his bed, the noises of the hearth and his brethren no longer there to distract him, he closed his eyes. He did not sleep, however. The cold dark room in which he lay proved a solitary prison for his mind. Addled and confused. His mind would not let him rest. Flowing from memory to memory in a long downstream river of pain. He shifted side to side, he pulled his cover on and off, he tried anything. No avail.

Ashen hair. Raven locks. That's all he could see.

Geralt did not sleep the entire night.

* * *

Triss Merrigolds eyes flared like a great fire, her flaming voice penetrating the great hall of Kaer Morhen louder than any war horn could. Her chestnut hair flowed as if a great wind blew through it, only the great wind emanated from from the sorceresses own wailing hands, her enraged glare stabbing the Witchers like a shake knife. Each of them, all five then stammered backwards, only Vesimir dared to try and calm the woman.

" He's here!" Triss shouted, no, screamed at the top of her lungs. " He's here! Alive! And you make no mention of it until now!"

" Triss, child" Vesimir spoke in a calm voice, steadily retreating from the sorceress. " You must understand...Geralt has only just returned to us two days prior. He's been resting. We didn't wish to..."

" He didn't come back from a simple hunt!" Triss barked back. She was angry, very angry. " We're talking about a man coming back from the dead, Vesimir! Don't you see?! A man that I..."

" Dammit, Merrigold!" Lambert barked back, as usual. His voice however not as calming as his elders. " This isn't about you, or your infatuation with Geralt"

" Shut up, idiot!"

" Lambert!" Vesimir stopped him from saying anything else. Anything coming out of Lambert's mouth would only anger Triss more than she already was.

" Triss, please" Eskel said. " It's not as you think. Geralt has been weak, not physically, but mentally. He lays, and doesn't do much else"

" He hasn't even trained with us" Coen added. " A Witcher that doesn't train is..."

" I don't care about that, Coen" Triss interrupted the Witcher, turning back to Vesemir. " Where is he now? Where is Geralt?"

" Upstairs, child" Vesimir reluctantly answered. " But as Eskel said, he only lays there. He doesn't speak to us often. I doubt he'll want to..."

" See me? Is that it, Vesimir? An old friend, nothing more?"

" I do not mean to offend you, Triss"

" I know you don't"

" Then take head of my word. Geralt will descend when he is ready, I'm sure. We only have to give him the space and time he needs to...heal"

Triss sighed. Her anger receded, her eyes no longer flared, and her beautiful hair fell down below her shoulders. She wanted to see him, greatly. She knew however that the Witchers were correct. She simply hated it.

Geralt descended from the room in which he had days ago in-prisoned himself in, his eyes adjusting quickly to the lightness of the keep as opposed the dark room. He walked down the stairs, quietly, hearing the noises coming from below. He heard voices. All of them recognizable. Comforting. None more so than the woman's.

When he arrived at the main hall, he saw them. Five Witchers and one sorceress, all conversing about the topic which had recused himself from speaking to anyone for days. They stopped as soon as they saw him.

Triss did not wait for them. Geralt could see from afar her watery eyes and perched lips. Beautiful. Sad.

She ran to him, or rather walked briskly, avoiding anything potentially embarrassing happening to her in front of the Witchers. She embraced him in a tight hug, a long hug, a warm hug.

She whispered in his ear. A pleasant and kind whisper. He whispered in return. An apology.

They remained in a hug for quite a while.

* * *

The ringing sound of metal swords clanging against one another sang through the walls one of the large training halls in Kaer Morhen, accompanied by the excited and child-like shouts of the inhabitants of the old keep. It sounded more like an arena than a castle, if you'd only remove the hundreds of spectators and instead replaced them with a handful of Witcher's who grew increasingly bored as the winter days passed. Time seemed to flow slowly at the Witchers keep, especially to the men, who spent their days either training, eating, insulting, or complaining about how spring couldn't come any quicker or how they yearned to fight something. There was nothing around for them to fight, so they fought each other, both to relieve stress and as a simple way to entertain themselves. It was a daily routine for them. One that Triss herself found rather monotonous to sit and watch.

" C'mon boys!" Vesimir shouted, standing a ways from where Triss was sitting, his old eyes peering at the younger Witchers in front of him. " Parry, Coen! Yes good! Jason you missed...no,no,no! Not a pirouette, dammit! Focus! Hah! Very good recovery! Good, good, very good! Quickly now! On the attack!"

Triss yawned. She knew little of swordplay. Geralt, who had taken a seat next to the sorceress smiled.

" Vesimir hasn't lost his touch" Geralts raspy voice filled Triss' ears. " Wouldn't you say, Triss?"

" Not at all" Triss smiled, watching the old Witcher bark commands like a great general. " I'd say he's even grown more sprightly in his old age"

" Heh...you should've seen him in his younger days, back when he was still a fencing instructor for young Witchers. He'd shout like this all day, even give you a smack if you ignored him"

Triss laughed, loudly enough for the rest of the Witchers, including Vesimir to notice and pause what they were doing. Only for second however, noticing that Triss paid them no mind they continued on their triad.

" He gave me and Eskel a few" he said, a smile as wide as she had ever seen from him. " But those three" he pointed at Coen, Lambert, and the Witcher Jason. " Those three must've loved getting smacked...they received at least three a day"

Triss laughed again. The Witchers paused again. Only for a second.

" Oh, I can see it now" Triss chuckled. " Lambert...a slap on that vile head of his"

Geralt grinned, his eyes stalking the younger Witcher a ways from them. Lambert was with Eskel. Geralt watched, a smile on his face yet silent. He watched as his brethren circled one another, swords gripped in hand, their gaze fixated on each other. He watched, watched as they flung at one another, striking with a quickness so great that Triss could not even make out where the swords were anymore. He watched, watched as they pounced back and forth, the instructions coming from Vesimir surely ringing in their ears. Geralt watched. Invested. Interested. Triss sighed.

On the one hand, Triss could only sigh of boredom. She had never been one to take interest in swordplay, even if it involved master swordsman like the ones in front of her. Impressive, perhaps, their speed and agility like no other, however she was simply not interested in any of it. She did on the other hand, know why this was important, most all at this moment.

As Geralt watched his comrades, Triss watched him, intently. She saw his smile and heard his laugh, yet Triss knew it was a farce, a placated act put upon by the Witcher. A mask donned to fool, to protect, and to keep at bay. She didn't have to read his mind like Yennefer to know what the Witcher truly felt. What really ensnared his inner core.

I know, Triss thought. I know what plagues you, Witcher. I know what dwells inside you, what's eating away at that heart of yours. What causes those nightmares. The reason you awake in a sweat every night. And they know as well. Your comrades. Your friends. Your brothers. They know. Like me. They know what you truly feel. They aren't fooled by you. You don't fool anyone, Witcher. We only play along. Play along because we know you all to well. We don't say a thing. We won't. Not yet.

" A good pirouette" Geralts deep voice once again emanated, ripping the enchantress from her thoughts. " Did you see, Triss?"

She didn't see, of course. Mainly because her attention to the sparring Witchers was minimal. Again, it did not interest her.

" It was a good pirouette" he continued. " But you see, not good enough...on a normal human perhaps, but not on Jason. He's too fast. Far too fast. Coen should know that..."

Triss indulged him, for his sake rather than her own. She knew why he spoke of the things he did, of things that he knew for certain did not matter to the enchantress. It was obvious he wanted to keep any conversation between the two on a narrow scope, avoiding any topic that could, in even the most minuscule way, be connected to Ciri and Yennefer. It was the reason for him being so fixated on explaining the intricacies of the fencing. Triss sighed.

As Geralt spoke, or rather, monotonously elaborated, Triss watched.

She had already been accustomed to Lambert, Eskel, and Coen, whom the enchantress had met many years prior. She was not, however, very familiar with the other Witcher wintering at Kaer Morhen. When she first arrived, after being summoned by Vesimir for what was at the time something of 'great importance and secrecy', Triss was briskly introduced.

His name was Jason, of course, yet strangely when introduced, Vesimir referred to him as a 'pup'. It wasn't until later that Eskel had explained to her that Vesemir, and only Vesimir called him that because of his youth. He looked young, certainly. Smooth skin, uncharacteristically scar free considering he was a Witcher, medium length curly hair as dark as the night, tall, lean, sinewy, and obvious eyes like a viper. It wasn't just appearance however, as Triss learned. The 'pup', was by far the youngest Witcher to have stemmed from Kaer Morhen. According to Eskel, he was years younger than even Coen and Lambert, only a child when Geralt and himself had already tried themselves on the Witchers path. Young he may be, though Eskel assured her he was just as deadly as the rest of them.

" Triss" once again, a voice ripped her from her thoughts.

" Yes, Geralt" She shook her head. " A nice pirouette"

" Hmm" Geralt grunted, a shake of his head. " I finished talking about pirouettes a long time ago"

" Sorry, Geralt. I..."

" Don't apologize. I know this interests you about as much as politics interest me"

" Which is to say not at all"

" Precisely"

" Then talk to me, Geralt, about something that does interest me..."

She looked away from him, not wanting to catch his gaze. He stayed silent for a while, a long while. His eyes, peered away from the sorceress, apparently not wanting to catch her gaze either. He knew what she wanted to talk about. He knew without a doubt. The look on his face said it all.

" Why" he plainly said, his eyes still focused on the other Witchers. " Why did Vesimir summon you here?"

" Id like to know that as well, Geralt" Triss answered, the conversation now interesting her much more. " Vesimir summoned me here without much to go on, something of importance and secrecy, that's all he would divulge. It wasn't until I saw you that I fully realized that"

He stayed silent again.

" Geralt" Triss sighed. " You know I can't rightly help if you don't let me"

" Help me with what? I don't believe there's much you can help me with, Triss" he bickered, the mask beginning to wear off.

She sighed again, this time one of frustration.

Of course. She thought. Witchers pride is damned thing. A damned thing that Geralt has a great amount of.

" I know what you're thinking, Triss" Geralt spoke again. " But it's not the case. Not this time. You can't help me...no one can"

The mask was completely gone now, the Witcher's smile faded as well, across his pale face, only the most desperate of expressions remained. Triss wanted to hug him, yet she refrained. She refrained from doing a lot of things.

" I can try" Triss pleaded.

" You don't understand" he dismissed.

" Help me understand"

" I can't... I can't help you understand what I myself don't understand, Triss. Can't you see? My mind is muddled, confused, damaged"

" You're in pain, Geralt...not damaged. A pain brought upon by loss, great loss"

" Yes. Loss" Geralt said, quietly, almost in a whisper. " I've lost everything"


End file.
